Harry Potter vs Lord of the Rings: Edition II
by Shadow Phantom
Summary: The epic battle for fantasy domination continues in this second moving edition. Secrets are discovered, love is created, and horror is unleashed (the reading of edition I is not required).


Disclaimer: This chapter could land me in jail. I swear. I rip off so much stuff. Just assume that I have no creative genius whatsoever.

Rated PG-13 for: The Ultimate Evil of the World

Quick Author's Note: A YEAR. It's been a year since I updated this. I'm still amazed. For those of you who haven't read Part I, never fear! It's not really important. It's basically more of this, except the fighting is between other people. If interested, by all means, check it out. If you don't have the time, don't worry about it.

I have a proposition. I've put oodles of allusions to everything in here. Find some and win a prize! Like...I'll write your idea for a match. Whoever gets the most. Remember, quotes from anything, and references to things you hear a lot. Also, if you give me Draco's personality you get a cookie! (ex: fluffy!canon!slut! Draco) Have fun, folks.

Chapter Fifteen: Harry Potter vs. Lord of the Rings

__

The Continuing Struggle for Ultimate Fantasy Domination

"Ron!"

"What is it…" Ron mumbled, his eyes still closed. "I'm tired…"

"Ron! Where were you!? Harry and I looked all over! You've been _expelled_ from Hogwarts!" Hermione cried.

Ron bolted up, eyes wide with panic. "I WHAT!? How!? Why!? What did I do!?" He looked desperately at Hermione, who was pacing the room frantically.

"You slept through the O.W.L.s, Ron! Now they don't think you're good enough to continue an education!"

Ron sat there, slack jawed. "I SLEPT through them!? How!? I studied, I went to sleep, I WAS GOING TO EAT A GOOD BREAKFAST!" He gave a tortured cry and rolled off the couch to the floor. "Fruit AND grains! Fruit and grains, Hermione! And I slept! I SLEPT THROUGH THE O.W.L.S!"

The youngest Weasley son was too busy crying into the floorboards to see that Hermione was laughing so hard, she was leaning against one of the couches. "Oh, Ron, stop your blubbering, I was just kidding. Galadriel told me to wake you up so that you wouldn't miss breakfast."

"WHAT KIND OF MASOCHIST BEST FRIEND ARE YOU!?" he cried out. "Siriusly, Hermione, that was just..." he got to his feet, his face no longer mournfully tear stained.

"...Effective?"

He sniffed and followed Hermione out of the tree house to where the Queen of Lothlorien was hosting breakfast. Most of the pastries and the like had already been downed by the four hobbits, who were contentedly running back and forth among the trees, and generally just being hobbits.

"Who got killed?" Fred asked.

Hermione looked at Fred inquiringly. "Excuse me?"

"We heard horrible screeching, and just assumed He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had managed his way through and was torturing the innocents." George said all of this with perfect calmness, and bit into an apple.

Hermione was starting to shake with laughter again, and Ron shot her a murderous glare. He sulkily seated himself and reached for the nearest plate of food. "It was Ron," Hermione informed the twins. "He thought he'd been expelled."

"That would be embarrassing," Fred agreed.

"Yes, it's better to leave before they get the chance to do that to you." George added knowingly.

"Imagine it, getting _sent_ home," Fred clicked his tongue.

"Shameful, that is." George nodded.

Ron was trying very hard now to concentrate on his oatmeal and not get angry, but the way his face was slowly turning telltale red, it was obvious he wouldn't last much longer.

"Well, Ickle Ronniekins, if it makes you feel any better, we'd take you under our wing," Fred said sympathetically.

"Yes, we'd employ you."

Both the twins were decked out in their completely dragon hide outfits again, and were occasionally blowing up piles of gold; just for fun.

"Family has to stick together."

"Even if said family is so stupid as to get expelled from school."

Ron's fists clenched, and seconds later, both the twins were sporting bowls of oatmeal sliding down their fronts. Silenced by shock, they stared at their little brother, while he calmly blew on his spoon and downed a mouthful. "Cheers," he grinned.

"Do you know how expensive it is to get these things dry cleaned?" Fred asked perilously.

"Like you care how much something costs," Ron retorted.

"He's got a point there," George said to his twin.

"Yes, that he does," Fred agreed, and the two Weasley twins wandered off to change their outfits and spend ridiculous mounds of money, just because they could. The two of them figured that if they did end up going bankrupt, it didn't really matter, because they were used to scraping for money.

And really, if the fanfiction world held any truth at all, they would be billionaires, Ron would become a world renowned Quidditch player or Auror, Mr. Weasley would gain position as the Minister of Magic, and Ginny would get a job that was equally ridiculously high paying.

A few minutes later, Sirius trudged out to where the party was, looking a bit under the weather. "What happened to you, Sirius?" Harry asked.

Lupin added, "You'd look better off dead."

"I don't know," he sniffled, sinking onto one of the benches. "I was fine last night."

Pippin took this opportunity to inspect Sirius's face. "He didn't drink too much," the hobbit said knowingly.

Merry tackled him. "I tigged you, I togged you, I tagged you!" Then he ran off, Pippin yelling vengefully after him.

"Maybe he's been stabbed by a Morgul blade," Aragorn suggested, peering at Sirius's drawn and pale face.

"I haven't been stabbed by anything," Sirius snapped back.

The mysterious cause of Sirius's illness, however, was never discovered, as at that moment, Boromir slid across the table, and flew off hitting a tree. "Ow," he said, and promptly died.

"What the...?"

A cloaked figure emerged from the shadows; wand brandished at the occupants of the table. "Good day," the figure said. The sneer on his face was so prevalent it could practically be heard.

Sirius glared. "I'd recognize that grease fest anywhere. Snivellus Snape."

Down went the hood, and indeed, there stood Severus Snape, sneering and being greasy, as he is best known for. "Sirius Black, you great dog, I should have known."

Harry was busy hiding under the table.

"And Harry Potter." Harry was surprised his face didn't melt.

"Didn't your mother ever tell you that your face could get stuck like that?" he asked meekly, hiding behind Sirius's legs.

"Better watch out Harry," Ron said sagely. "He'll kill you dead."

"Like he did to Boromir," Hermione added.

The sound of Faramir crying could be heard in the distance.

"Get out from under that table. I won't kill you. I was just coming on word from Dumbledore. At the last meeting, the Dark Lord told me that he'd be sending his Death Eaters here."

Galadriel looked curious. "Death Eater? How does one go about eating death? Do they prevent it? Are they coming to help you?"

Hermione shook her head. "No, the Death Eaters are the minions of Lord Voldemort. They kill people and wear black cloaks."

The Elf Queen sat pondering this statement. "Well...why are they called Death Eaters?"

Harry shrugged. "The world may never know."

Snape's eyebrows were raised in disgust, surprise, or agreement, nobody could really tell which. "I'll be going then," he said. "Oh yes, Mr. Malfoy, you earned an 'Outstanding' on your last essay."

Draco was lounging against a tree, wearing black leather pants, and generally just being sexy. "Word," he said.

"Potter, you got another 'Dreadful'."

Harry's mouth fell open in righteous indignation. "Not fair! Malfoy didn't even WRITE his last essay!"

Something that could almost count as a hideous smile crossed Snape's features. "Yes, but I play favorites, remember? Good day!" The Potions Master turned to leave, numerous murderous glares being sent his way, but before he had gone more than a few steps, he fell to the ground, tackled by a figure yelling wildly.

"YOU KILLED MY BROTHER! WHY! HE WAS A GOOD AND HONORABLE MAN! HE WAS THE ONLY ONE LEFT ALIVE WHO LOVED ME!" He turned to Eowyn, and smiled. "Except you, honey." He resumed strangling Snape. "NOW I'M LEFT WITH A FATHER WHO WANTS TO BURN ME ALIVE!"

Gandalf puffed on his pipe wisely. "Your father loves you, Faramir. He will realize it before the end."

Faramir turned hopefully to his father, eyes wide in puppy dog adorable-ness. Denethor looked up from his palantir, and his face contorted in thought. "Hmm...nope. Still hate you."

"HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE!" Faramir yelled, hitting Snape's head on the ground each time he said the word. "I'LL GET MY REVENGE!"

"Get off me, would you?" Snape demanded indignantly.

"Fight him like a true gentleman," Aragorn suggested.

"By using my sword to hack his head off?" Faramir suggested keenly.

"You can use my pots and pans if you like," Sam offered. "Or the team of Notre Dame." All the football players, cheered, and lifted Sam up on their shoulders.

"How about a good old fashioned duel?" Snape suggested, thankful for the fact that Faramir had stopped hitting his head repeatedly against the ground.

"Hmmm..." Faramir climbed his feet, and then helped Snape up. "Okay." He pulled out his sword, and Snape was equipped with one. "My name," he said siriusly, "is Faramir of Gondor. You killed my brother. Prepare to die." And then giving a war cry that would put Xena, warrior princess to shame, he chased Snape out of the clearing, sword waving wildly.

Sirius took Snape's wand and happily snapped it in half. "I like this place more and more," he said cheerfully, no longer mysteriously ill.

Galadriel was still quietly contemplating earlier activities. "I don't understand how they chose Death Eaters, when all they really do is run around and hex those who can't defend themselves..."

"That's right!" Hermione exclaimed. "How are we going to defend ourselves against the Death Eaters when they come storming in?"

Aragorn laughed, as if Hermione's question was the stupidest thing he'd ever heard in his life. "With honor and dignity, of course!"

Hermione stared at the King of Gondor. "No. I meant. How are we supposed to hold them back? What's our battle plan?"

"Hide in the trees and shoot them with arrows," Legolas suggested.

"Well that could work, but what about-"

A swift darkness and shadow fell over Lothlorien for a few brief seconds before lifting, leaving all mortals shivering in it's wake. "What _was_ that?" Ron asked, clutching his arms to himself.

"_Nazgul_," Aragorn hissed. "Where is the Ringbearer?"

All the hobbits shuffled into view, looking rather forlorn. "I slipped and the ring fell on my finger," Frodo said by way of apology.

"So now the Enemy knows where you are hidden," Galadriel said. "I must go consult my mirror."

"Frodo, I thought I told you in Bree, put that thing on a chain around your neck, and form your hands into fists every time you fall," Aragorn reminded the hobbit warily, glancing into the shadows around them.

"I'm sorry," Frodo murmured, casting his eyes down, and looking much too cute for Aragorn to remain cross with him.

"Just remember next time," he said, patting Frodo on the shoulder. "I have to be off and warn those who are able that the Nine are headed towards this very place. We must be ready to defend ourselves." He looked at Frodo gravely. "I'll have Arwen saddle up a horse for you." With that, he ran from the clearing, cloak swishing impressively.

"Mr. Frodo! No!" Sam cried, but was unable to do anything, as the football team carried him away.

Pippin reached over and discreetly tagged Merry, who shouted in protest and began chasing him. Frodo looked around for his absent friends, and hung his head. Clouds passed over the sun. "All by myself..." he muttered.

Meanwhile...

While Frodo was being ignored, Ron was doing an excellent job of getting angry. "Malfoy!" he yelled, his face turning red. "You've got to stop them from coming!"

"How?" Draco drawled, not moving from his position against the tree.

"YOUR DAD IS A DEATH EATER!" Ron shouted.

Draco glared at Ron. "Lucius Malfoy is _not_ my father," he said quietly and dangerously. "How dare you..."

Hermione looked at Draco curiously. "You two look almost identical," she said. "And the family tree says you are, and, well wait, then who is your father?"

There was a short pause, in which everything went silent. Even Ron waited with anticipation. Draco closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, before casually pushing off from the tree. "Before I was born, the Dark Lord commanded that he be given an heir that be passed off as the child of another, hidden from the heir until it was the right time for him to take over the world." A faint wind came through and blew some hair into his face. "Lucius Malfoy was chosen to be the surrogate father."

"You don't mean to say...?" Hermione gasped, tears clinging to her elongated lashes, the wind lightly moving her curls. "Your father is really...?" she clung to Harry's arm fearfully.

"_Voldemort_," Draco whispered.

"Then give me one good reason I don't kill you right now!" Ron cried, plunging forward, wand held out, hate for Draco evident in his eyes.

"Ron! Don't!" Hermione cried.

"I won't let him hurt you, Hermione!"

Draco's hand was now going for the sword attached at his side, eyes narrowed in anger. "Listen, Weasley, I know you can't help but hate me for everything I've done for you over the years, but do you really believe that I'd kill all of you just because my father happens to be the most powerful Dark Lord in centuries?"

Hermione held her breath.

"Yes," Ron said.

A loud screeching caused all occupants of the clearing to hold their hands painfully to their ears. "It's them!" Frodo cried. "It's the Nine!"

With a look of determination, Harry nodded and pulled out his wand. "It's all right, Frodo. I'll make sure that nothing happens to you."

"Expelliarmus!"

Harry snatched for his wand, but it went flying off into the shadows of the trees. "Hey!" Harry protested. "What was that for?"

Stepping out of the shadows came hooded and cloaked figures. The lead figure was twirling Harry's wand in circles. "Well, we can't exactly kill you when you're armed, now can we?"

Harry gaped. "You...you can't kill me! That's Voldemort's job! You can only harm and/or capture me! I don't believe you!"

"Ah, but what happens when the Dark Lord's faithful followers turn against him? Then we can do whatever we want with you and your little...friends." He pulled his hood down, and smirked confidently.

"You're not taking Harry down that easily," Ron said fiercely, stepping in front of his best friend, wand held out threateningly.

"Not without fighting us first," Hermione added, standing beside Ron solidly.

"And me," Draco added, making his way in front of Ron and Hermione. "You'll have to dare and kill me first."

Lucius Malfoy glared at Draco. "Move out of the way, Draco, this doesn't concern you."

Gray eyes locked in competition. "Oh, but I think it does," he snarled back.

"Move aside, son."

"LIAR!" Harry yelled. "HE'S NOT YOUR SON!"

Lucius turned to Harry, looking confused. "What do you mean he's not my son?"

"HE TOLD US!" Harry said. "HE TOLD US THAT YOU WERE JUST ACTING LIKE IT BECAUSE VOLDEMORT NEEDED AN HEIR! AND YOU NOW YOU'RE TREATING HIM LIKE HE'S YOURS!"

"Ah." Lucius turned back to Draco, who had started to go a little pink around the ears. "Telling people that you're the Dark Lord's heir again to gain popularity Draco? You're grounded when I take you home."

Draco's lip quivered. "I was telling the truth," he snapped.

"And so am I. Now, unless you want me to change your wardrobe pink, _stand aside_!"

Draco stared at Lucius defiantly for all of five seconds before he sighed. "Yes, Father."

Harry stared at Draco. "YOU LIED?" he asked. "HOW COULD YOU LIE TO US?"

"Harry!" Ron yelled, wincing. "Will you forget about it already and stop shouting like a lunatic?"

"OH," Harry said. "SORRY."

"Thank you," Ron replied.

"Now then," Lucius interrupted, still twirling Harry's wand deftly around. "I believe it is time for all you to-"

"They've come!" Frodo shouted. "They're here!" All heads turned to see what the commotion was. Frodo was backing away fearfully from nine shadowed figures, while his hand grasped at something hanging around his neck.

"_Froooooodooooooo,"_ an ominous voice whispered, blowing over the treetops with the wind, which had picked up again. _"Froooooodoooooo..."_

Merry, Pippin, Sam, Gandalf, Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, Faramir, and Sirius all ran into the clearing, wielding dangerous looking swords, and came to a halt in front of poor Frodo. "It's okay, Mr. Frodo," Sam assured him. "Don't put the Ring on!"

The leader of the Nine stepped forward dangerously, and all drew swords of their own. "You will not get to Frodo, today, or any day," Aragorn said warningly.

An unholy screech came as a reply, and his sword flashed forward, about to clash with Aragorn's remade blade when –

"Wait, just a minute!" Lucius Malfoy roared. "Who are you, and why have you taken our stylish design? This was designed by the Evil Lord himself, I'll have you know!"

"So," Harry mused, "they wouldn't have killed me after all."

If his face had been visible, everybody was very certain that the Witch King would have been glaring fiercely at Lucius. A screech escaped from the depths of his hood.

A confused look crossed Lucius's face. "Half a moment!" Frodo exclaimed. "I'll translate." He reached for the chain around his neck and pulled it out, the Ring gleaming and twisting harmlessly. The Head Nazgul shrieked again.

"Frodo, don't do it!" Aragorn warned the Hobbit, right before he slipped the object on his finger. Immediately the world was enshrouded in black and white. Frodo turned to the Nazgul and looked inquiringly at the Witch King, who was in fact, scowling.

"Pardon?" he asked. "We didn't quite catch what you said."

Back in the world of the living Ron jumped about a foot in the air. "He's talking to that thing?" he asked, in awed whisper. "He's actually talking to it?"

"Mental, if you ask me," Harry muttered, bitterly jealous that in order for him to become invisible he had to throw on a huge cloak, whereas Frodo had to fight ultimate corruption and destruction.

Ron shook his head. "I'd say incredibly brave."  
"I said that the only true Lord is Sauron, and I know for a fact that he doesn't employ those namby-pamby sorts. I mean, look at those cloaks! Perfectly tailored? How are you supposed to strike fear into the heart's of others when you have to go get your garment dry cleaned every other day?" The Witch King crossed his arms over his chest sullenly.

Frodo translated what had merely been earsplitting to the mortals and immortals standing in the valley. "Excuse me!" Lucius exclaimed. "At least when I'm threatening to kill someone I don't sound like I'm taking opera lessons!"

There was another screech. "He says, 'Yes, and I can see how that is even more terrifying when you're holding a scary bit of wood'."

Hermione clutched Ron. "This could get bad," she said. "Oh, I do hope they don't hurt Frodo!"

"He's so noble," Ron agreed, sniffing bravely, and encircling his arms around Hermione.

"Excuse me?" Harry asked. "Since when has been getting in the midst of two lunatics been considered brave?"

"That's it!" Lucius decided, throwing off his cloak to reveal...black robes. "It doesn't matter what we look like! The fact remains that the Death Eaters could easily overtake the nine of you!"

There was a short pause. " 'You're on. Nancy.'" Frodo said.

__

Match #13: Death Eaters vs. The Black Riders

Announcer #2: Ooh! Servants of the Dark Lords having at each other! This should be an exciting match! In corner number one we have the Death Eaters! Varying in height, weight, and intelligence, most will throw an illegal curse your way if you get on the wrong side of them. Numbering at around fifteen or so, and really not the nicest group around, the Death Eaters from Harry Potter's world!

Then, from Middle Earth we have the Nine Nazgul, servants of the evil Lord Sauron, and so far corrupted that they are no longer men but shadows whom care of nothing but returning the Ring ensuring that Sauron take over the world! All of them are tall and loud, and tougher than nails!

Really, since bad guys always cheat, there are no rules concerning this match except that you can't kill any pivotal characters. Let the match, BEGIN!

"Avada Kedavra!" Lucius yelled. A flash of green light filled the clearing, and when the light had faded, the Witch King stood there healthy as ever.

" 'You have horrible aim'," the invisible Frodo said, " 'that curse ricocheted off me and hit somebody else.'"

They looked around curiously. Faramir let out a strangled sob. "They did say no pivotal characters," Aragorn reassured him.

Lucius let out a war cry worthy of a patriot and lunged forward, the Death Eaters on his heels. Soon there was a clash of wands, swords, and curses. All the good guys covered their heads and dove out of the way.

Ron and Hermione crouched next to each other behind a tree and tall grass. They turned and looked at each other worriedly. "Somebody's going to have to win eventually...and then what?" Ron asked. "What's going to happen to us?"

"Don't worry Ron," Hermione replied, attempting to swallow the knot in her throat. "No matter what happens, we can hold onto each other, all right? Harry taught us enough in DA, we should be able to handle ourselves."

"But the Nine," Ron said. "They're not even in this world, they're impossible to kill, if they win then-"

"Don't say that. Just don't say that. We'll be okay, Ron, we will. We _have_ to be." Hermione reached out and clutched his hand. "Believe in me."

Some ways off, across the clearing, crouched behind the overturned picnic table was Harry. He was glaring at an invisible patch to his right. "Well," he sniffed, "I don't see why all of my friends should all of a sudden abandon me for you. I mean, I'm just as good as you are, aren't I? I've defeated a Dark Lord, and gone through enough injuries to last anybody else a lifetime."

Frodo reappeared, looking weary, and returned the Ring to it's spot around his neck. "Harry," he said tiredly. "It's not about that. We aren't what our friends make of us, but what we make of ourselves. When we accomplish things that were thought impossible, it's a personal triumph, and nobody should be able to take that away from you. You should be a hero to yourself first, and one to the world later."

Harry blinked a few times and swallowed.

"So," Aragorn said, his back pressed to a rather wide tree. He snuck a glance at the battle quickly, before whipping back around.

"So," Sirius agreed, hidden up in the branches, watching the fight below.

"Who do you think will emerge the victor?" the future King asked.

"Hard to say," Sirius replied. "Could be the Nazgul, could be the Death Eaters. Neither one's going to feel very winning when Galadriel gets a hold of them."

Aragorn smiled. "As long as they don't hit any trees, they should be all right."

A large _CRACK_ sounded, and a branch from the tree next to Aragorn and Sirius fell to the ground. Merry and Pippin groaned loudly.

"Oops," Sirius said.

The sight of two halflings distracted the fourth Nazgul, who turned and breathed heavily. Merry and Pippin squeaked, and crawled backwards, until they were pressed up against the tree that they had fallen from.

However, as he reached out perilously, his hand was hit with the stunning spell, and he froze in place. The two Hobbits looked at each other, and bolted into the forest. _"Daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaamn iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit,"_ he hissed.

"Nine, plus fifteen...that's twenty-four," Gimli said, assessing the situation. "Twelve for each of us."

Legolas shook his head. "No. There are nine plus sixteen out there. That means whoever gets to twelve first scores the thirteenth."

Gimli growled. "There are twenty four!"

"Twenty five!" Legolas hissed.

"Twenty four!"

"Twenty five!"

"Twenty four!"

"Twenty five!"

Fred and George grinned, and turned to the two persons huddled between them.

"Are you by any chance free this evening?" Fred asked, suavely raising eyebrow.

"...Cause I know a great little place called 'The Three Broomsticks'..." George added.

"...If you're interested."

Arwen and Eowyn stared at them in disbelief.

"My name is NOT Rudy!" Sam cried.

"This is getting bad," Faramir whispered, peeking through a veil of leaves, hood up over his head, bow and arrows on his back. "I'd hate to intervene though."

Lupin nodded, from his spot beside Faramir, the hood of his cloak also up over his head. "Only if it becomes necessary. To save the lives of the others. Risking our own lives is worth that."

They shook hands.

"Draco!" Lucius snapped. "Come out here and help us!"

"NO!" Draco yelled back, apparently taking cues from Harry. "I REFUSE TO BOW TO YOU ANY LONGER!"

"When I say come, that's not a question!" Lucius pointed his wand. "Imperio!" he yelled. A vacant expression crossed Draco's face and he haltingly walked into view.

The Witch King let out an ear-splitting screech, and Frodo quickly slipped the Ring on. " 'That's not fair!'" he cried from behind the picnic table. " 'His confidence is clearly shown through his ability to unabashedly wear leather pants, which therefore concludes that he has powers which far exceed your own! I demand you lift your spell!'"

A glint appeared in Lucius's eye. "Never."

" 'That's it!'" Frodo cried. " 'I've had it! Prepare to be subdued! Run while you still have the chance!'"

The Death Eaters all started chuckling and nudging each other, as the Nine Black Riders, drew from battle and assembled in a line. The Witch King stood imperiously in front of them. Unfortunately, the Death Eaters were not in the least bit intimidated.

Aragorn gasped. "Don't look!" he shouted. "Cover your ears!"

Sirius turned around. "Why?"

"It's their most vicious attack," he said grimly. "You'd be lucky to live through it."

Frodo's voice was now coming from a spot fairly close to where the Nine had assembled. He translated the next part with difficulty, considering he had to keep swallowing in order not to throw up everywhere. " 'You shall now face the ultimate evil!'" he managed to choke out. " 'Prepare to be defeated!'"

"What do you reckon their going to do?" Ron muttered.

"I don't know!" Hermione fretted, pressing close to him. "I've never, well, I can't imagine what they can do!"

"Do you think that we're going to-"

"Don't be silly!" she snapped at him. "Of course we won't!" Hermione wasn't quite sure if this sounded convincing, as her own heart was threatening to leap out of her throat at any moment.

Ron turned red and nervously cleared his throat. "Well, if we don't, er, make it, then you should know that I-"

"Me too, Ron," Hermione replied, her eyes shining.

The Black Riders held their arms straight out on each side and then set them over the shoulders of the Nazgul on both sides of them. The Witch King had joined the formation by now, and the line took a threatening step forward.

The Death Eaters were still unimpressed, completely unaware that they were about to face their ultimate doom.

A record player appeared and an invisible hand guided the needle down, before Frodo reappeared and fled the clearing. The music was hard to hear and warbled at first, but it slowly gained momentum, and soon it was apparent exactly what the Black Riders were planning to do. By then, it was too late.

On count one, they all lifted their right knees in unison and kicked.

"The can-can!" Draco gasped, free of the Imperius Curse. He covered his ears and pressed himself to the ground.

Left knees, kick, right knees, kick, left knees, kick, impossibly high, straight, perfect kicks, each foot hitting the ground when the music struck, each foot lifting off as the beat was set.

It was over in a matter of five horrible minutes. All of the good guys emerged from the trees cautiously. "Never had a chance," Sirius shook his head.

Harry was shaking terribly. "I didn't think...I didn't think that was possible."

Sirius laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. "It's all right, Harry. It's all over now."

The Witch King picked up the record player and tucked it back into his robes. _"Froooooooooodoooooooooo..."_ he hissed.

"Or very possibly not," Sirius added.

Boromir groaned and rolled over. "The Ring...Frodo took the Ring...I tried to take it...he's going to Mordor now...he should be in the Dead Marshes..."

In a whirl of screaming and screeching and swishing, the Nine had taken off.

"I think he's a bit delirious," George said, poking Boromir.

Aragorn nodded gravely. "Still stuck in canon, I'm afraid."

Legolas rolled over the last Death Eater and laughed. "THERE _WERE_ TWENTY FIVE! YOU OWE ME A BEER, GIMLI!"

"Geez!" Ron exclaimed, appearing, hands clapped over his ears. "Get out of the fifth book already! Everybody else has lost their caps lock privileges!"

"HOORAY," Harry smiled. "MY FRIENDS HAVE RETURNED."

Draco sat up and nodded sagely. "Word."


End file.
